The Ghost Of A Man
by Mrs.UriexRoss
Summary: Not sure how many chapters this will have eventually. It's rather depressing and frightening even for me to read and I wrote it. Be warned you may never be the same again after reading it. Not for the faint hearted.
1. Chapter 1

The ghost of a man sits on the dirty, dank floor of the cupboard sized motel room. He picks up a half empty bottle of vodka and takes a long swig, wincing as the liquid burns down his throat. He'd never been much of a drinker before, but being sober was just too much for him to handle right now.

As he clumsily deposits the bottle on the floor, his other hand rises, a crumpled, tear stained photo clutched in his shaky and frail grasp.

The smudged photo depicts three people. A young man with pink lips and lovely wavy brown hair, a genuine smile on his face, not the strained one he had always faked for the press. Ryan. His best friend and someone he loved dearly.

And to the far right another man, taller than the first, hair darker and cheeks flushed a rose pink colour with happiness. This was Brendon. He stared at the photo still, but not at the person he used to be.

He was looking at the girl in the middle of the picture, the centre piece of the photo. Both men had their arms around her shoulders. And in Brendon's eyes she was the most beautiful creature in the universe. This was Philippa. He winced once more as he thought her name.

In this photo she was her old self, hair freshly died, bright and vibrant like her personality. Her skin shone in the bright white light from the camera flash. She'd always had smooth, soft skin that reminded Brendon of porcelain dolls and she was just as delicate and beautiful. Her words rang in his head, the exact words she'd used after their first kiss in high school.

"Brenn, you don't want me. I'm damaged goods. I'm messed up Brenn. Messed up bad."

And then , try as he might to stop it, he remembered his own words.

"I don't care! I love you. I will never let you go, no matter what. I love you. And I'll always be with you." A sob escaped from his lips when he remembered his words once more. "I'll always be with you." Except now he wasn't.

His feeble hand reached a short distance to his right as he dropped the photograph and grabbed a heavily blood stained razor blade, wild need darkening his tear filled brown eyes. He had to be punished. Punished for still being alive. Why hadn't he been taken instead of her? Why? He continued to sob uncontrollably, remembering how he'd once found her doing exactly this to herself, how the lethal object was _hers _and that her blood and his were mixed everytime he used it, and with that he drew the blade across his wrists.

He didn't wince and his sobs neither intensified nor abated. He just watched the blood flow, apathetic, letting the crimson liquid flow out of his body without realising that this time he'd cut just that little too deep, that there was more blood than usual and that if he didn't stop this now, he probably wouldn't be waking up when he passed out.

His body slipped to the left and his torso slumped onto the grit encrusted floor. As he lay there unknowingly dying, he remember everything, absolutely everything he'd had with her. People say your life flashes before your eyes when you die. His life, the time he had truely started _living_, had begun with her.

He remembered how she'd breezed into his world like a whirlwind, the beautiful British accent of hers that had driven him crazy. Her voice was beautiful and he'd kill to hear it again, just to hear her speak. But what he wanted more than that, though it was hard to believe that he wanted anything more, was to hear her sing. Her voice was melodic and husky and harsh and soft and sweet and sour all at once. And she could have been huge. A superstar. In fact, she _was _ a superstar to him. She always had been and always would be. All her perfections and imperfections, she was the most wonderful thing ever to exist.

He knew what was coming next, he knew he was going to remember that fateful night when everything went to shit.

"No. Please… No…" He whispers to himself as his eyes cloud over and the memory begins against his own will. He's too weak to stop it.

"_Come on Brenn! Put her down we've got a flight to catch!" Ryan called from the cream leather couch. He heard a rustle and a groan through the bedroom door and rolled his eyes. He wanted to get home. Brendon was lucky, his girl had been able to come with them as the support act, (Not that he didn't like Philippa, he thought she was wonderful and he was as close to her as any of his bandmates) but his special lady was back home. Granted, they spoke daily via skype or phone, but it wasn't the same and there was a longing, an aching for each other and to be in each others arms.  
_

"_I'll be home soon honey. I promise. Love you Tori." He muttered to himself, holding onto one half of their golden locket. It was perfect symbolism really, him having half a heart on a chain. For they never quite felt as if they were a complete person when they were apart._

"_As if half of my heart was missing, you know?" Tori had told Ryan this some time ago and when he presented her with the lockets, many years later she'd cried and thrown her arms around Ryan, amazed that he'd remembered such a short and seemingly insignificant conversation._

_Through the bedroom door that the groaning had issued from, Brendon was lying on the bed with Philippa in his arms. As usual they were just holding each other and staring, lost in each others eyes, overwhelmed by the pure passion they felt for each other. Unlike most couples, Brendon and Rosa had retained the 'freshly in love' feeling and it didn't look as if it would fade fast._

"_We should really…" Philippa said reluctantly as she glanced at the bedroom door for a nanosecond before her eyes darted back to her lover, unhappy to be away from the face she knew so well for more than a millisecond._

"_Yeah…" Brendon muttered in assent, knowing what she was saying without her having to say it, but not truely paying attention to that. His eyes were too busy tracing the contours her cheek bones and the arch of her cute little nose as his fingers traced wistfully over her pink lips. Then, he grabbed her pail cheek and kissed her suddenly, fiercely, fire burning within him and he knew, in that short but passion filled kissed, that she felt it too. They broke away panting as if they'd just had wild, rough, world shattering sex. They looked at each other and sighed again, melancholy filling those sighs at having to disentangle themselves and release one another as they got up off the king sized golden bed spread, grabbed their bags and headed out to meet Ryan and go home._


	2. Chapter 2

The room was getting darker, but not in the normal way and Brendon was sure that not much time had passed since he'd been laying there. Not that time made much sense or any difference to him anymore. He looked at the cracked clock face on the wall where, what once must have been pretty turquoise paint, was now faded grey, cracked and pealing. He was right; it had only been five minutes. Then why was everything so dark? Every single noise coming to him sounded as if it were travelling down a tunnel before it met his ears and his head was swimming.

But he had a half formed idea of what might be going on, but couldn't quite make his brain work fast enough and was dragged back into that painful memory.

_They walked through the hotel lobby, it was clean and tidy and beautiful, with marble floors and counters, plush leather seats and sofas and wonderfully alive greenery. As they approached the revolving doors, they could see the press waiting for them and both men put a protective arm around the girl that walked in their midst._

_Philippa had had a couple of bad experiences with the press before (Once they'd found her when she went to England to visit her friends and followed her around all day, making her unable to go to the houses of her friends or family because she didn't want them to have people like that knocking on their doors and asking for information about her. Another time they'd managed to get a picture of Brendon and her walking into a hotel room shower together. That was the last time they stayed on a ground floor room or accidently left the curtains drawn) and was more nervous than most people around them. And she was just easy to love. They didn't want her upset, they wanted to protect her. Especially Brendon. If a photographer or reporter ever hurt her, with words or actions, he'd rip them apart there and then with his bare hands. It'd happened once before when a reporter had pushed her because she had to get the studio and didn't have time to answer his questions. Luckily Tori and Ryan had been there and pulled Brendon off of the nosey man before things got too bad. Thankfully charges weren't pressed._

_Simultaneously, they took a deep breath and ran through the shroud of noise and light that was reporter's questions and the flashes of photographer's cameras. They dove into the waiting car and began laughing. Whilst running through the reporters they'd caught the words 'Love triangle', 'Threesome' and 'Disgusting behaviour'._

"_What _will _they think of next?" Ryan says, bend double with laughter._

_Philippa leans into Brendon, still giggling feebly. He thinks she looks adorable and plants a kiss on the top of her head before putting his arm around her a holding her close. They stay like this for the rest of the journey._

Without realising that he's realising it, Brendon knows now that he's dying, as the light fades from his view and he slips away, loosing grip on the world. He smiles, knowing it's sadistic, but not caring.

"Soon, my love. Soon. I'm coming for you." He whispers as his eyes slide shut and he remember it all, clearer than ever before.


	3. Chapter 3

_Whilst waiting for the plane, Ryan asked a stranger if he would take a photo of the trio. He explained that it was for his girlfriend._

_Tori always liked to see where they'd been, but just this once, Ryan had forgotten to get a decent picture and so he thought 'Well, why not? I'm sure she'll appreciate one that's personal. And besides, we're happy and smiling, so what better time to get this would there be? Tori doesn't want to see moody 'Leave me alone I'm tired I've been playing rock shows every single night' or 'I'm totally wasted and possibly high too' pictures, so this is perfect.'_

_He took the photo and Ryan went to one of the shops and got it printed onto photo paper there and then. He handed the picture to Brendon. Ryan was bad with organisation and was bound to loose it at some point, so giving it to Brendon was a good move._

_They boarded the flight, all the while feeling their insides knot into excitement. They'd been on the road for such a long time now. They needed this. Going home was like being on vacation for them._

_Philippa disliked being in first class, no one really understood why. She always frowned at the different meal choices, more leg room and extra padding on the seats. No one really go it. Brendon thought he understood a little bit. "Why should we have classes? What is this, 1912?" He was partially right and it was as close as anyone would ever get. He was the only person to ever understand her mind; her way of thinking, though, when drunk, Ryan could get pretty close sometimes._

_They settled down though, despite Philippa's clear disapproval of the class system, the supposed "Modern society of equals" they still lived within. They were used to travelling by now. Travelling together even more so. They all liked it, but most of all, they liked travelling when they were going home._

_Take off was fine, Ryan was sitting with his headphones on, sleeping. It didn't matter if the flight was two hours or twenty two; he always slept through it, totally unaware of his surroundings. That's why Ryan didn't often travel alone. He'd sleep through the landing and often be found on the plane by the cleaners, many hours later._

_Brendon and Philippa were, as per usual, being overly cute. He had his arms around her and they were watching the in flight movie on the headrests minute screens. It was some kind of chic flick. Brendon was probably enjoying the film more than Philippa was. She liked horror movies, he liked romance. They were a strange pair and that's why they fit together so well._

_Brendon had a small smile on his face as the girls eyelids fluttered and drooped, her entire body relaxing. He encouraged her towards him and she rested her head on his chest._

"_You're so beautiful." Brendon whispered to her, reverence prominent in his voice._

"_I love you Brenny." She muttered back sleepily._

"_I love you too." He said, mostly to himself as the woman in his arms fell into a deep sleep._

_Brendon wasn't paying attention to the film anymore. The 'unearthly creature' (as he had described her many times over. She disagreed with this. She'd always viewed herself as average and plain and could never understand why Brendon kept her around) in his arms was much more entertaining than that. She always muttered and whispered in her sleep and he found it interesting. Hearing what she had to say was amazing. Her unconscious thoughts had been inspiring to both himself and Ryan. She practically wrote songs in her sleep._

_Suddenly, warning lights flashed scarlet and alarm bells cried out, shrill and loud, rousing all the sleepy passengers. Stewardesses were running around begging people to stay calm, but not looking in much better shape themselves. They hear an ear splitting crash and the staff gives up all pretence of calm and loose their heads just as most passengers have._

_Brendon looks at Ryan helplessly. The man looks back, almost afraid but not quite, the pain in his eyes screaming 'TORI!' Then Brendon felt the girl on his chest raise her head and he looked down at her. Her eyes were wide and filled with terror, slowly filling with tears as she stared at her lover. Brendon opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out; not that anyone would have heard it over the commotion that was going on around them._

_He did all he could now. He lowered his lips and pressed them against hers, fierce and urgent. She kissed back and he felt the tears overflow from her eyes. Their breathing hitched as their lips parted. Brendon pulled her as close as possible, covering her ears with his hands, trying to block out the sound they could hear that would burn inside their minds if they ever survived this._

_Brendon felt another pair of hands over his. He looked at Ryan and the older man nodded at him and Ryan lent forward, holding onto his best friend. The three sat there in each others arms for what seemed like an eternity before_


	4. Chapter 4

"_What, where am I? Where's Ryan? Where's Philippa?" Brendon had awoken in a sterile looking room. He started calling for the people he loved and a nurse ran in to shush him._

"_Shhh honey, let's just concentrate on getting you better shall we?" She said in an attempt to calm Brendon, whom she was having to hold down now. He was thrashing and kicking against her, desperate to find the people he cared for so deeply._

"_PHILIPPA! RYAN! PHILIPPA! RYAAAN!" He was screaming now, fighting against the nurse harder than he'd ever fought before. His body was aching and protesting, all his muscles screaming at him to give in. The nurse hit the panic button at the head of his bed and doctors came streaming in, one holding a particularly large and unfriendly needle. Before he knew what was happening, he was fighting a lost battle. There were many of them, all healthy and uninjured and just one broken, bruised and battered him._

_Brendon was pushed down and held by four people, three doctors and the nurse from before and for a second he felt guilty about his actions, feeling childish to be kicking up a fuss. But then he remembered why he was doing it and let out an animalist cry of rage at the people that were keeping him from the closest people in his life._

_He felt the prick of the syringe in his arm, a lot more painful than usual due to mass of bruising and burns that covered his body and because of his thrashing and then next thing he knew, he was falling back into the pillows and was out of it once again._

_Brendon's scream still haunts the people who were in the close enough to hear it even today. It was unearthial, unnatural and overall terrifying. It was the worst sound any one of them had ever heard in their entire lives. And that was something coming from people who'd worked in the ER at one point._

_It was the worst day of all of their lives.  
_


	5. Chapter 5

Though his eyes were closed and his perception of the conscious world was slipping away from him, Brendon managed to moan out a whimper of emotional agony as he remembered everything.

Being told that they were dead and not believing it. He couldn't believe it, wouldn't. But then it sunk in. And he couldn't go on anymore.

He walked away from his career, everything he knew or cared about. Because that was just it: he didn't care anymore. The most important things in the world had been cruelly taken from him. Most day's he'd just lay in the room wondering 'why?'

In the time that he'd been locked away in his own asylum, withstanding his personal torture, his skin had become sallow and papery thin. You could see his blood slowly pumping through his veins, looking as though it might break through at any second and spurt everywhere in a scarlet torrent. But he didn't care.

He was thin, his skin hanging off his body, almost like a too big hoody, his bones showing through, his cheekbones higher than ever before, his pelvis jutting out alarmingly, his spine looking as if it would snap in two if he were to bend over, his ribs not concealing his empty stomache. But he didn't care.

His eyes had lost their shine, their life, their creativity and their passion. They were dull, ice cold and piercing. They were the only thing about him that still had a hint of life about them. There was pain behind them, showing just through his mask, only vaguely able to surface. But he didn't care.

He knew he looked like a corpse. But he didn't care.

He briefly wondered about Tori, where she was, what she was doing, how she was coping. He considered her having a new partner. Maybe she was married with kids now? Then again maybe not. He didn't think anyone could replace Ryan and he knew that Tori felt that too. But he didn't care.

He knew that there were people out there looking for him, worried about him, others who loved him. But he didn't care.

And now he was lying inside his personal prison, dying. But he didn't care.

Brendon was an optimist. He believed in happy endings. It was just who he was, he couldn't help it.

But just this once, he didn't believe there was a happy ending. And he didn't care.


End file.
